The midday sun was a white circle behind a veil of gray clouds as the party found its way down an abandoned street. They snaked single file through piles of rubble and rebar. First was Floyd, the big man. Then came his sister. After her came the merchant, and then finally came Saul, the teenager. The sun would come out from time to time revealing the small sandstorms of grit created by the cold autumn wind.
The entire world is probably covered in this stuff, the young boy at the rear of the pack thought. It was a fine white powder, the remnants of broken cinderblocks and crumbled cement walls. The way things are going, he continued, the whole world is gonna erode. Floyd and his sister, Lawrence the merchant, even me. All dust. He looked down at his boots as they trudged along kicking up someone’s past. After a moment Saul looked up again. He ran his fingers through his dirty chestnut hair, pushing it off of his forehead.
The group came to an intersection and stopped. “Now, if I’m not mistaken,” Lawrence began, “the synagogue is somewhere west of here.” The merchant turned and pointed to our left.
“That’s what we were told, anyways,” Floyd added. The group stood in silence for a minute. “How are ya holdin’ up, kid?” Floyd’s attention was on Saul now. “This hike ain’t too much for you?” He was always looking out for the kid.
“I’m 17, Floyd. I can walk,” Saul replied. All eyes were on him now. “Let’s just keep going” The others abided, starting down the street to their left. Saul had almost forgotten where they were going. A synagogue. I’ve never been to a synagogue. His family was Jewish, or at least they had Jewish heritage. Saul himself had never found connection with the church, or any religion at all. He never read the Torah, he never had a bar mitzvah, and he didn’t know anything about the Jewish people. He had never known his parents to keep any religion, either. Saul’s name was really the only link left to their Jewish culture. I guess that’s our past. My family’s dust. After the world went to pieces it broke apart and turned to dust.
He was anxious to get to the synagogue. Different scenarios rushed through his head as they headed west. In the first he entered the place of worship and was turned out. They knew he wasn’t a real, practicing Jew. They knew he was an outsider who just carried a Jewish name. They could tell the minute he walked through the door. The way he moved. The way he said hello. The way his hair fell across his brow. So they kicked him straight out. They said, “You filthy pretender. You dirty, no-good faker.”
Saul’s emotion turned to fear. He then felt stupid for being afraid. A bunch of old rabbis weren’t going to turn him, a 17-year-old boy, out on the street.
He noticed that his gait had slowed behind that of his companions during his daydream so he jogged a few steps to catch up to Lawrence. He matched the merchant’s pace and looked into the gray skies. He tried to imagine God. All he could think of was an old picture of Jesus Christ he saw when he was younger. It hung in the sleeping quarters of a small inn where he stayed a year, or so, back. Some Jew I am.
His mind wandered again to the synagogue. The next scenario was much more pleasant to Saul. In this scenario he entered the synagogue and an old rabbi came up to him and said, “Welcome, my son. You are home.” He would stay at this holy place, with these holy men. He would read the Torah. Twice. It would be his spiritual awakening. He would grow out a beard. He would wear a yarmulke. He gave a small laugh and smiled to himself. He had never had a home, even when his parents were alive they were travelling caravan merchants. He had never been in one place for over a month at a time, much less years. It’d be nice to have a home.
“I think this is it,” Floyd announced. The group’s pace slowed as they approached a small, one story building of cream brick.
“Now, remember, we’re looking for supplies. Religious folks are always easy to coax a few days of provisions from. To protect the herd and whatnot,” explained Lawrence. “We want to get in and out. Let me do the talking.” They all nodded in agreement.
Lawrence passed Floyd and led the other four under the Star of David mounted over the archway and through the white doors. They entered a warm room filled with about a dozen people. Saul looked around the place. It’s warm at least. A man in dark robes came up to greet us.
“Greetings sons and daughters. I am Father O’Donahue. Welcome to my community center.”
As decided Lawrence was the first to respond. “I thought this was a synagogue, Father?”
“Oh no, the Catholic Church took over this building many years ago. It is now a place for the weary and sick to rest or travelers to trade in peace. Are you travelers?”
Lawrence continued to make small talk. Saul leaned over to Floyd and whispered, “I’ll be waiting outside.”
“Be careful, kid,” Floyd replied.
Saul slid out the doors sat down on a rock outside the place. He looked into the sky once more, but didn’t see anything this time. Not even a portrait of Jesus Christ. Saul looked down. All he could see was dust.
The entire world is probably covered in this stuff, the young boy at the rear of the pack thought. It was a fine white powder, the remnants of broken cinderblocks and crumbled cement walls. The way things are going, he continued, the whole world is gonna erode. Floyd and his sister, Lawrence the merchant, even me. All dust. He looked down at his boots as they trudged along kicking up someone’s past. After a moment Saul looked up again. He ran his fingers through his dirty chestnut hair, pushing it off of his forehead.
The group came to an intersection and stopped. “Now, if I’m not mistaken,” Lawrence began, “the synagogue is somewhere west of here.” The merchant turned and pointed to our left.
“That’s what we were told, anyways,” Floyd added. The group stood in silence for a minute. “How are ya holdin’ up, kid?” Floyd’s attention was on Saul now. “This hike ain’t too much for you?” He was always looking out for the kid.
“I’m 17, Floyd. I can walk,” Saul replied. All eyes were on him now. “Let’s just keep going” The others abided, starting down the street to their left. Saul had almost forgotten where they were going. A synagogue. I’ve never been to a synagogue. His family was Jewish, or at least they had Jewish heritage. Saul himself had never found connection with the church, or any religion at all. He never read the Torah, he never had a bar mitzvah, and he didn’t know anything about the Jewish people. He had never known his parents to keep any religion, either. Saul’s name was really the only link left to their Jewish culture. I guess that’s our past. My family’s dust. After the world went to pieces it broke apart and turned to dust.
He was anxious to get to the synagogue. Different scenarios rushed through his head as they headed west. In the first he entered the place of worship and was turned out. They knew he wasn’t a real, practicing Jew. They knew he was an outsider who just carried a Jewish name. They could tell the minute he walked through the door. The way he moved. The way he said hello. The way his hair fell across his brow. So they kicked him straight out. They said, “You filthy pretender. You dirty, no-good faker.”
Saul’s emotion turned to fear. He then felt stupid for being afraid. A bunch of old rabbis weren’t going to turn him, a 17-year-old boy, out on the street.
He noticed that his gait had slowed behind that of his companions during his daydream so he jogged a few steps to catch up to Lawrence. He matched the merchant’s pace and looked into the gray skies. He tried to imagine God. All he could think of was an old picture of Jesus Christ he saw when he was younger. It hung in the sleeping quarters of a small inn where he stayed a year, or so, back. Some Jew I am.
His mind wandered again to the synagogue. The next scenario was much more pleasant to Saul. In this scenario he entered the synagogue and an old rabbi came up to him and said, “Welcome, my son. You are home.” He would stay at this holy place, with these holy men. He would read the Torah. Twice. It would be his spiritual awakening. He would grow out a beard. He would wear a yarmulke. He gave a small laugh and smiled to himself. He had never had a home, even when his parents were alive they were travelling caravan merchants. He had never been in one place for over a month at a time, much less years. It’d be nice to have a home.
“I think this is it,” Floyd announced. The group’s pace slowed as they approached a small, one story building of cream brick.
“Now, remember, we’re looking for supplies. Religious folks are always easy to coax a few days of provisions from. To protect the herd and whatnot,” explained Lawrence. “We want to get in and out. Let me do the talking.” They all nodded in agreement.
Lawrence passed Floyd and led the other four under the Star of David mounted over the archway and through the white doors. They entered a warm room filled with about a dozen people. Saul looked around the place. It’s warm at least. A man in dark robes came up to greet us.
“Greetings sons and daughters. I am Father O’Donahue. Welcome to my community center.”
As decided Lawrence was the first to respond. “I thought this was a synagogue, Father?”
“Oh no, the Catholic Church took over this building many years ago. It is now a place for the weary and sick to rest or travelers to trade in peace. Are you travelers?”
Lawrence continued to make small talk. Saul leaned over to Floyd and whispered, “I’ll be waiting outside.”
“Be careful, kid,” Floyd replied.
Saul slid out the doors sat down on a rock outside the place. He looked into the sky once more, but didn’t see anything this time. Not even a portrait of Jesus Christ. Saul looked down. All he could see was dust.